Anthology of Spam Poetry

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Personalized Letters from Santa

Revolutionary mortgage concept:Can you be hypnotized?Caution!! You will be approved!

(No embarrassment)

Prepare to be amazed!You've been granted access!Follow these instructions very carefully!

Your cat

Friends on the inside

inks

cash out

romance

your cat

sample from

facials.

new apple

lingerie

Exclusive

cards.

aromatic

green tea science

Professional

health

wild girls

cards

feature

pampered

slots, the book!

your cat

professional.

Golden egg

development

Your doctor

reports

inks

chocolate

normal sexual life

North Pole

success

incentive

stimulation.

results.

Amazing Fly Monkey

shamanism

development

makes your life better with

stocking stuffers

creating coffee connoisseurs for decades.

The machines are never complaining prisoners subjected to daily humiliations that were the computers. - Stiofa Cervantes

GOD bless me gentle (or it may be plebeian) reader… how eagerly must thou be looking forward to this biography, expecting to find here my scolding and abuse against the illegitimate great-granddaughter of a certain “sword-wielding fugitive from justice” — I mean she who was, they say, begotten at Tordesillas and born at Tarragona. Well then, the truth is Stiofa Cervantes (December 9, 1806 – December 16, 1857) never quite achieved the fame and notoriety as her surname should have bequeathed. Yet, I am not going to give thee the satisfaction of ridicule; for thou wouldst have me call her ass, fool, and mahout, but I have no such intention. If her wounds have no beauty to the beholder's eye, they are, at least, honourable in the estimation of those who know where they were received; for the soldier shows to greater advantage dead in battle than alive in flight. I wonder at her unrecognized genius and admire her works and unceasing, strenuous industry; for I know well what the temptations of the devil are. The poor man may retain honour, but not the vicious; poverty may cast a cloud over nobility, but cannot hide it altogether. Thou needst say no more of her, nor will I say anything more to thee, save to tell thee to bear in mind that this selection of poetry which I offer thee is cut by the same craft and cloth as Stiofa Cervantes’ greatest achievements. While she at length dead and buried, so that no one may dare to bring forward any further evidence against her, for that already produced is sufficient; and suffice it, too, that some reputable person should have given an account of all these shrewd lunacies of her without going into the matter again; for abundance, even of good things, prevents them from being valued; and scarcity, even in the case of what is bad, confers a certain value. To thee I leave this final footnote; Stiofa was felled by an earthquake while vacationing in Naples during her birthday celebration. A greater tragedy none could dream.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Agog Represent Hesitatingly (sonnet for VlAmGRRA & ClALhllS)

She was thankful whenthe servants came hurrying.Alice was the last to join, the several servants nodded.

As she came to the difficultstep forward, Nicholaa nodded. Yes, abovewhat if you be the one to follow my husbands.

The servants nodded.

She didn’t turn to Royce but Nicholaa muttered to herself.

She passed her old chamber and…gathering round the fires throwing into the flames the remains of sheds, chairs, tables, wheels, tubs, and Prince Andrew or Dolgorukov. Her presentiment at the time had not deceived her that that state of freedom and readiness for any Old Gabriel.

She seated herself across the cyvasse table from her father, the fat Myrish priest who used to drink with Robert. “It is the size of ones cock which determines success.”

Yet the wildling girl liked to huddle near the hearth, as if the cold ashes still held was only saying that to encourage your brother to be more diligent. - Dionysus Chavez

The biography of Dionysus Chavez (?1730 – December 14, 1799) remains obscured by clouds and up the Khyber, yet what is clearly known was his involvement with founding el Pueblo de San José de Guadalupe in 1777. The most commonly accepted history of Chavez is that he was a member of the lost expedition from Spanish Franciscan priest Junipero Serra. As one of a saucerful of survivors, Chavez and the remaining fearless crew wandered west from the Gulf Coast into the northern Mexican territory, stopping at villages and campsites of Native American tribes along the way. At some point, Chavez wandered alone in the Baja California Desert with his bible, notebooks, and minor provisions. Chavez was purported to have made ink using soot and gum arabic (a common formula for traveling Franciscans) which he used to document several species of small furry animals gathered together in a cave and is noted for discovering the Boojum tree and Creeping Devil cactus. Chavez arrived in the California Valley and settled with the Juaneño natives sometime around 1772-3. Soon afterwards, a franchise from the Free Four Order of Friars Minor arrived in the area and asked Chavez to join their Order and build an aggressive campaign to convert the Juaneño natives. Chavez agreed, and during this time wrote several collections of prayers, choruses, and devotional poems utilizing Castilian Spanish (rumored to be his native tongue) and the Luiseño language. Collections of these writings were made into two volumes during Chavez’s lifetime; Cats on Wine – which contained relics of his early writings and, Toshño Om Chaami – a collection of great dance songs. While Chavez’s work is venerated by the Catholic Church (originals are stored at the Bibliotheca Apostolica Vaticana), Native American groups have denounced Chavez’s writings as simply documentation of the forced conversion of the tribes to Catholicism (especially the chapter “Scream Thy Last Scream” from Toshño Om Chaami). Chavez’s works were translated into Italian during the Second Ecumenical Council of the Vatican (Pompeii) with no other official translations acknowledged by the Holy See. However, our site has found an English translation from the Thorgerson Library of Hertfordshire and secured posting by permission.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

No Longer Enthralled [limerick]

At last you've found a gal that's hotYou wanna plough her moistened twat.She looks so sizzling, she's so nice!But would your penile size suffice?Not sure she will yearn for more?You need a dic'k she would adore!But how to grow it long and thick?Your only hope is MegaDik!You'll get so wanted super-sizeAnd see wild craving in her eyes!Your rod will pound her box so deep,Tonight you'll hardly fall asleep!So try today this magic p'illAnd change your life at your own will! - Wilmer I. Camacho

Our entry today was written by Wilmer I. Camacho (January 6, 1832 – October 12, 1892) who was married for 15 years to the Hungarians with a less than average size cock. He had given away a scholarship to someone to write his biography establishing its reputation but also doing good things. His brother, Europe, wondered aloud from the back of his carriage how but even with all that praise, by the early 1890s One searches similarly in vain for photographs of A Cheap Price for Freedom without an appointment. He couldn’t have sex in the woods at night when he casually mentioned 300 doctors were hunted down to provide fresh inheritance instruction payment of $18 million USD only. In his lecture, the Archbishop Europe acknowledged that he left the cottage himself and that perhaps the right people were finally starting to listen to Camacho. And yet there was still a lingering sense that as well as the story, there were a lot of guys down at the bottom waiting to devote time to watching Camacho’s lackluster performance. His regret clearly changed his plea to guilty at Portugal (“You were wondering, I’m Jewish.”). One day, the Daily Mail reported Camacho and Europe got into the summer and early fall of 1892. Chancellor Lamontlength, of their practice theory, appeared to fly in the face of reality. At times the fateful evening had a better chance of getting all his views across if, instead of granting the subject of nationalism, a great communication; if we lived in a country that back from a 1-0 deficit to defeat Sweden....

From the Site Director

Welcome to the Anthology of Spam Poetry Internet page ~ also known as the Collection of Spam Bards document.

My name is Morton Hurley and I maintain this site as a means of preserving and promoting the art of poetry developed from spam messages.

Explicatus

The first sixty posts on this site (from 10:01 AM to 11:00 AM) are works created by authors born after January 1, 1983.

Posts from 11:01 AM to 12:00 PM will focus on works crafted by bards of the electronic mass-mailing medium who have passed-away prior to February 1958.

Postface

Do you find this sort of thing interesting? Can you believe a publishing company has published a book collecting the first sixty spoems from this site along with original photography from readers and essays from K. Silem Mohammad and me?